Round 43

Halie stared at the shifting patterns of dark energy that crawled along the tower's stone face like living shadows. The wards had always been a problem—the ancient magic woven into the stone to keep intruders out—but this was different. This wasn't passive defense anymore; it was active predation.

"What is that?" she breathed, her hand instinctively moving to the silver cross at her throat. "It's feeding. Something inside is feeding on the wards' energy."

Jeane's crimson eyes narrowed as she studied the same phenomenon from her precarious perch atop a partially collapsed section of roof. Her dark wings shifted restlessly, ready to launch but held in check by discipline and calculation.

"Five minutes," she said, her voice barely carrying the distance between them. "We have perhaps five minutes before whatever's inside realizes we're not just passing curiosity. The wards are no longer barriers—they're arteries, and they've switched from a slow feed to gulping energy because 'the patient' knows visitors have arrived for inspection."

Halie felt her stomach twist with apprehension. This wasn't the simple heist Merrin had made it sound like. This was something ancient and malevolent that had just recalibrated its defenses to be far more efficient at detecting and consuming threats—or prey.

"Merrin, Varrika—get yourselves back through the window now," she called out, her voice tight with controlled urgency. "Seraphine, cast your ward-suppression spell immediately. We need five minutes of quiet, and I mean absolute silence. And you, Jeane—I don't care how good your scouting is, you are not flying into that tower alone. Whatever's upstairs just upgraded its menu from 'intruder' to 'dinner guest with a side of dessert.'"